


Inadequate Recompense

by dendriticgold



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendriticgold/pseuds/dendriticgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ‘friendship’ that Jimmy offers Thomas at the end of S3 turns out to be something of a sham. Thomas reacts badly upon realising.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inadequate Recompense

‘Alfred it’s been a pig of a week. I can’t tell you how much I  _need_  to go out for a drink tomorrow. We’ve got the evening free…we might as well use it!  _Why_  are you being so difficult about this?’ Whispered Jimmy hoarsely to Alfred as they stood in the downstairs corridor, waiting for Mrs Patmore to announce that the breakfast dishes were ready to go up.

‘I’ve already told you I can’t afford it!’ Alfred hissed back. ‘And if you can’t, with your bloody First Footman, salary, how do you expect me to, eh? I couldn’t buy half a pint for myself, let alone you, at the moment! We’ll just have to leave it for next month.’

‘Well  _I_ fancy a drink tomorrow.’ Said Jimmy with a defiant raise of his eyebrows. ‘And I intend to have one!’ He winked quickly before whispering. ‘Even if  _you_  insist on being impossible about it…’

His face suddenly contorted into the picture of upset misery.

The swiftness of the switch alarmed Alfred, whose mind temporarily skipped over the absurdity of a man looking quite so forlorn at the lack of a half-pint and moved straight on to the need to comfort a human being in pain. He quickly lunged in, reflexively, meaning to enquire as to Jimmy’s welfare or offer some sort of comfort; but another interloper, approaching unseen over his shoulder, was far more speedy on the uptake.

‘Jimmy…what’s wrong?’ Said Thomas as he neatly circumnavigated (and ignored) Alfred to abandon his progress towards the servant’s hall and take a light grasp of Jimmy’s shoulder. ‘Jimmy…?’ He repeated softly, hunching forward a little at the shoulders to bring his face down to meet Jimmy’s dejected and downcast eyes.

‘Oh don’t mind me Mr Barrow.’ Said Jimmy giving a quiet sniff as he drew his mouth into a weak smile. ‘I’m just being silly…I’ve no right to be so upset.’

‘Jimmy I’ve…’ Thomas glanced briefly up at Alfred, who somehow resisted the powerful urge to roll his eyes before nodding and retiring a respectable few steps away from them down the corridor. Thomas leaned a little closer. ‘I’ve told you a hundred times now; to you, it’s Thomas.’ He squeezed at Jimmy’s shoulder, watching warmly as the faltering smile on Jimmy’s face grew a little as he did so. ‘Now what’s got you in this state?’

Jimmy hung his head for a moment before replying. ‘I won’t lie to you Thomas…it’s money. It’s so frustrating!’ Jimmy said with a sigh. ‘I’ve barely got a thing left from my salary this month, but there’s my cousin’s little girl Abigail having a birthday and…I was  _so_ determined I was going to send her something this year…’ He trailed off, shaking his head miserably.

Thomas gave a small laugh. ‘You daft creature!’ Thomas said, removing his hand from Jimmy’s shoulder to give a playful nudge at the hairline behind Jimmy’s ear (careful not to push a single hair out of place) before withdrawing it. ‘I can loan you a bit. It’s no matter.’

‘Really?’ Jimmy’s head instantly snapped back up.

Thomas chuckled at Jimmy’s surprise. ‘Little ones always deserve to be indulged…’ He teased with a pointed look, earning himself a playful frown from Jimmy. ‘Just come by my room this evening when it’s time to change for the dinner service and I’ll give you what you need, alright?’

Jimmy beamed at him. ‘ _More_ than alright, Thomas. Thank you.’ He said, tilting his head back to look up at him; intense gratitude and glee plastered all over his face.

‘Well, there you go.’ Said Thomas. ‘Now, you have a good day and I’ll see you later.’ He added, giving Jimmy a final grin before heading off on his way.

Jimmy’s pleasant and pleased expression watched Thomas disappear around the corner; then turned back to Alfred, instantly slipping into something devilishly triumphant.

‘Job done!’ He announced with a twist of his head.

Alfred sighed and shook his head. ‘Bloody hell Jimmy…you know this is starting to get painful for us poor spectators.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that everyone knows what you’re doing…’ Said Alfred, allowing himself the eye roll he had so desperately wanted to indulge in earlier. ‘…and even the ones who  _don’t_  like Mr Barrow think you’re being an arse.’

‘I can’t help it if he likes making me happy.’ Jimmy countered with a smirk.

They both turned as Mrs Patmore’s decidedly un-dulcet tones rang out from the kitchen doorway. ‘This is supposed to be served  _hot_ , you know! Stop gabbing and get it upstairs now!’

The morning was fairly unremarkable, save for a light bulb bursting on the second floor which alarmed a none-too-modern-minded maid to the point of hysterics, and lunch was looking to be going that way too.

That is, until Lord Grantham appeared in something of an indignant fluster, prompting the usual mass-rising of staff around the table in the servant’s hall, to inform Mr Carson that Edith’s…Here Lord Grantham was powerless to provide a better word than ‘employer’…was expected to be (highly unexpectedly) joining them the following morning and staying the night.

The unyielding requirement for a Butler to present a sober and dignified front in the presence of his master vanished from Mr Carson’s demeanor as soon as Lord Grantham left. With a face like thunder and mouth that had sucked far too many lemons for one lifetime, Carson (largely redundantly) relayed the news of Gregson(otherwise known as Mr Married-New-Money-No-Class)’s arrival to the assembled staff and gruffly, and more than a little reluctantly, informed Jimmy that he would be acting Valet for his stay.

Jimmy didn’t care for the grudging way in which Carson had notified him of his temporary promotion, but he cared even less for the idea of Valeting for someone with no pedigree (who had most likely never used the services of a Valet in his life) who would likely expect him to stand around chatting while he dressed himself; and Jimmy had  _nothing_  to say to such a man.

Glancing across the table, he waited, wetting his lips with his tongue in a half conscious gesture to make them catch the light.

It didn’t take long for Thomas to notice and return his gaze.

‘We need to talk.’ Mouthed Jimmy with a ‘private’ nod, that a large amount of other occupants around the table (although he made damn sure Carson was not among the number) awkwardly noticed.

It was a pointless gesture given the pre-existing invitation to meet Thomas in his room early that evening, but Jimmy knew (and the glint in Thomas’s eyes continuously confirmed) that Thomas appreciated those little personal communications.

If the answering look from Thomas over the table at lunch was anything to go by, Thomas had already guessed the reason for his dissent and perfectly understood his position; however, just to be on the safe side, Jimmy decided he ought to take special care in his manner of address (and undress) before making his way across the attic corridor to Thomas’s room that evening before dinner.

Thomas was putting the finishing touches to his hair, uniform change already completed to perfection, when there was a tentative knock on the door.

‘Don’t know why you feel the need to knock…’ Drawled Thomas, noting the suddenly brighter man looking back at him in the mirror with a small glow of pleasure.

‘Oh you know me…’ Jimmy’s face peaked cheekily round the partially open door. ‘…I like to be proper when I can.’ He said, pushing the door back to the wall.

While Thomas’s body and breathing managed to survive the sight of Jimmy wearing nothing above the waist but an (open) shirt, he couldn’t quite prevent his pupils from shamelessly dilating; and instantly felt his face flush as a powerful and uncomfortable guilt crept over him. ‘Well that’s not…um…’ He  _meant_  to joke that Jimmy’s state of undress wasn’t exactly ‘proper’, but he found himself flustered at the thought that commenting on it (especially given his briefly lecherous inner monologue) would be highly improper.

Jimmy seemed not to notice his awkward hesitation, something Thomas counted as a supreme mercy.

‘So…’ Said Jimmy with a grin. ‘…I don’t suppose you’re still willing to help me out with…’

‘Right!’ Thomas exclaimed overly enthusiastically. ‘There’s some money in that top drawer there…’ He indicated over to the night-stand. ‘…just take what you need and get it back to me when you can.’

‘I have  _no_  idea what I’d do without you!’ Said Jimmy, with an exaggerated and comical humph at his own ineptitude as he crossed the room to fish around in the indicated drawer.

Thomas dropped his head and indulged in a little private smile as Jimmy did so, quickly setting his face back to a more poised and neutral expression as Jimmy made his way back over to stand by the doorway. He did his best not to notice the extra skin on display as Jimmy tucked the money into his trouser pocket, temporarily folding back one side of his trailing, un-tucked shirt to do so.

‘Thomas…’ Said jimmy, startling Thomas out of his guilty reverie somewhat. ‘…there was one other thing…’

‘Gregson.’ Said Thomas immediately, thankful for the segue.

‘Mmmmm…’ Jimmy agreed with a wry twist of his mouth. ‘…It’s just…I don’t feel that it it’s in my remit to look after a  _Newspaper Editor_.’

‘I know exactly what you mean.’ Said Thomas with a vigorous nod. ‘When Mr Branson first came here with Lady Sybil, both me and Mr Carson agreed that it was beneath our dignity to…’

‘So you understand then?’ Jimmy cut in brightly (having absolutely no interest in the answer), before widening his eyes in a pleading expression. ‘Will you speak to Mr Carson…maybe get Alfred to do it?’

Thomas gave a small laugh. ‘I don’t think he’d need much persuading to let Alfred do it instead.’

‘Good.’ Jimmy grinned. ‘Thank you…’ He made his way over to the door, pausing briefly to add an affectionate ‘…Thomas’ before heading back to his room; immediately starting to do up the buttons on his shirt once out of sight as his grin turned into a smirk.

Thomas smiled to himself for a little while after Jimmy left, but the feeling rapidly degenerated to one of unease when he raised the backs of his fingers to his face, still hot to the touch, and wound up berating himself for his inability to control himself when it came to Jimmy; despite Jimmy’s much appreciated kindness in being willing to offer his friendship after all that had gone before.

Thomas went to bed later that night still pondering the solution to the lingering awkwardness (at least on his part) and came to the, highly unwelcome but annoyingly logical, conclusion that he would probably feel a great deal better if he could just get it all off his chest and admit the truth to Jimmy; that he still found him the most beautiful and kind of creatures. And promise Jimmy that he would try not to let those feelings get in the way of their hard-won friendship, after apologising profusely for his own lack of self-discipline when it came to matters of the heart.

To that end, Thomas seized upon the chance afforded by Alfred being named as Gregson’s Valet at breakfast the next day to invite Jimmy to take a walk with him around the Downton grounds that evening.

‘I don’t see why not.’ Said Jimmy pleasantly, giving a small bow to Thomas before following Alfred down to the kitchens.

Alfred snorted. ‘Well at least this means you won’t be down at the pub while I’m polishing shoes.’

Jimmy winked at him as he retrieved the first serving dish from the table. ‘Don’t be sour, I know you were itching to get that job.’ He swept out of the kitchen with a flourish, waiting until Alfred was safely following behind with the second tray before adding. ‘And who says I’m  _not_  going to the pub this evening?’

‘Going to take Mr Barrow to the pub with his own money are you?’ Said Alfred dryly as he narrowly avoided tipping rashers of bacon down the bannisters.

Jimmy turned around to give him a highly unamused look, a look carrying the sarcastic silent message of ‘Are you bloody  _serious_?’, before giving a disdainful raise of an eyebrow and continuing on his way.

Alfred briefly closed his eyes in exasperation and frowned as he followed Jimmy up the stairs.

A short while later, with Gregson’s arrival imminent, Alfred and Jimmy found themselves once again making their way up the stairs; this time with Thomas and the hall boys in tow, bound for the great hall.

Mr Carson and Lord Grantham were both of the accord that Mr Gregson would surely be embarrassed were he to be greeted with the usual pomp and ceremony usually associated with receiving a guest (in particular a male with designs on one of the female occupants), thus the majority of staff were free to go about their daily business as usual.

Trudging along behind Alfred, Jimmy internally grumbled to himself that he should still have to attend to taking Mr Gregson’s suitcases to his room after being spared the indignity of having to attend him during his stay; reasoning that Alfred and the hall boys should be perfectly capable of doing it on their own.

As Thomas went to sweep ahead of them in the hallway to be ready to greet Gregson to the house, Jimmy suddenly settled on the solution.

‘Mr Barrow!’ He called, mindful enough of the presence of the Hall Boys to refrain from using his first name until they had safely stepped aside from the rest of the group. ‘Thomas…’ Jimmy whispered. ‘…I’m not feeling all too well.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Thomas said in concern, the fingers of his right hand twitching to press themselves against Jimmy’s forehead to test for a temperature.

‘It’s nothing much. I just…pulled my back a little awkwardly this morning.’ Said Jimmy earnestly. ‘And I’m a bit worried about straining it by taking the cases…’ His eyes met Thomas’s. ‘…especially if we’re supposed to be taking a walk later…’ He trailed off.

‘Alfred and I can take care of it!’ Thomas instantly responded.

Jimmy fought very hard to keep his internal smirk off his face.

‘Why don’t you go sit in the library for a moment.’ Thomas continued, indicating over to the side of the hall. ‘Lord Grantham and the others are in the drawing room until after Mr Gregson’s settled.’

‘Thank you Thomas.’ Said Jimmy, with a small yet powerful smile and a grateful nod of his head.

As he walked down the hall he couldn’t quite resist shooting a wink at Alfred, who stared in amazement as Jimmy disappeared into the library.

Taking a moment to wander round the opulence of the room, for once completely alone in it, Jimmy grabbed the first book off the shelf that came to hand then contentedly flopped down onto the sofa, raising his feet up onto the footrest and balancing the book in his lap with a smug grin as he listened to the flurry of activity heralding Gregson’s arrival in the hall outside.

Later that evening, Jimmy was of course (and most unfortunately) still in far too much pain from his back injury to be able to accompany Thomas out into the Dowonton grounds.

He hadn’t anticipated Thomas’s alternate suggestion of sitting with him in his room and reading; Thomas having noticed that Jimmy had emerged from the library with a new book once the palaver of settling Gregson was over.

How he managed to get away with simultaneously convincing Thomas of his need to get a very early night to sleep it off, while surreptitiously notifying Mr Carson that he would be heading to the village as previously planned, Jimmy had no idea.

But he gave intense thanks for it about an hour later as he sat alone in the pub, sucking down a pint, laughing at the image of Alfred folding his way through Gregson’s underwear drawer.

There was some good conversation to be had with strangers that evening, not to mention some cards. Although, had he not been quite so determined to make the most of having an evening to drink, he would have probably lost the majority of Thomas’s money on a few shaky hands of poker.

His enjoyment was marred only by the walk home, which was long, dark, lonely and gave one far too much time to think.

Mercifully, each thought absented itself from his memory almost immediately upon contemplation, so Jimmy was not left with the burden of any particularly deep or troublesome personal revelations by the time he reached Downton.

‘Bloody hell, Jimmy!’ Exclaimed Alfred as Jimmy’s swaying form appeared in the doorway to the servant’s hall. ‘Have the whole barrel to yourself did you?’

‘Mmmmmm maybe.’ Giggled Jimmy, swinging from the doorframe with one arm. ‘But I’m going to…going to…to…go to bed now.’

‘Good idea.’ Said Alfred with a grimace as Jimmy turned to head up the stairs, not having the heart to inform Jimmy that a confused Thomas was sitting a few seats away from the door, just out of his line of sight.

‘Weren’t he supposed to be convalescing?’ Said Thomas slowly as Alfred gingerly turned towards him.

‘He was…yes.’ Said Alfred, his cheeks flushing a little as he fingered the newspaper in front of him, wishing he had half of Jimmy’s talent for untruths. ‘But…it was his cousin, you see. He came, and…invited him out. And because he’d come all this way, Jimmy couldn’t say no…and…um…I suppose the alcohol has helped him forget about his…whatever it was that was wrong with him earlier.’ Alfred finished shakily, attempting to cover up his discomfort with a smile.

Thomas’s willingness to accept such a half-cocked explanation made Alfred realise like never before, with an intense twinge of discomfort, the painfully unflinching constancy of Thomas’s regard for Jimmy.

‘I’ll not do it again!’ Alfred hissed as soon as he and Jimmy were alone while collecting glasses the next morning.

Jimmy frowned through the lingering after effects of the night before, somehow still keeping the tray of glasses level. ‘Not do what again you clod?’ He said ill-humoredly.

‘Lie for you to Mr Barrow.’ Said Alfred gruffly. ‘He  _saw_  you coming in last night.’

‘Oh bollocks…’ Said Jimmy without enthusiasm as the two of them made their way into the dining room to grab the last few whiskey glasses. ‘…I’m sure I’ll come up with something…’

‘No need.’ Alfred cut in, setting his tray down on the table for a moment and motioning for Jimmy to do the same. ‘I’ve already done it. You were out drinking with your cousin, by the way.’ He said darkly.

‘Alfred…’ Said Jimmy in mock admiration. ‘…I didn’t know you had it in you!’

‘I’ll not do it again, mark my words…It’s not  _fair_.’ Said Alfred, leaning his hip against the table and pressing his fingertips to his temple. ‘He thinks so highly of you, and you just…’

‘ _I’m_  just being smart.’ Jimmy cut in. ‘And how’s this any different to you and Mr Carson? What…just because he dotes on you like a son while Thomas has…other ideas…means that yours is acceptable while mine is not?’

‘I’ve never lied to Mr Carson.’ Alfred snapped. ‘And I appreciate everything he does for me.’

‘I appreciate everything Thomas does for me.’ Jimmy immediately retorted with a sickly smile.

‘Jimmy…it’s not right!’

‘Why not?’ Said Jimmy, eyes flashing gleefully at the conflict.

‘Because he really cares about you. And you couldn’t give less of a toss about him.’ Said Alfred. ‘You’re just _using_  him to get ahead!’

Jimmy snorted. ‘No I’m bloody not. I’m just having him make my life a bit easier…that’s all.’ He said with a shrug. ‘If I really wanted to get ahead I’d have him talking me up to Mr Carson or Mrs Hughes now, wouldn’t I? Actually, now that you mention it…’ Jimmy drawled. ‘…maybe I’m missing a trick there…should probably have one of them ready as a cushion in case Thomas wises up…unlikely as that may be.’

‘Fucks sake…’ Whispered Alfred defeatedly, briefly burying his head in his hands. ‘What if he does find out what you’re doing? Think he’ll still be your friend when he finds out how many lies you’ve told?’

‘Oh come now Alfred…’ Jimmy sighed as he swept his tray back up off the table. ‘…why would I care about losing his friendship if his use to me was spent? I swear it’s like you have no brain at all sometimes!’ He laughed as he swept out into the corridor.

Alfred waited a moment, rubbing against his temples a little longer, before following Jimmy out into the corridor.

In the pantry annex off of the main dining room, Thomas stared blankly at the cupboard of silver in front of him; having quite forgotten what he’d come in for.

‘James.’ Mr Carson seemingly randomly decided to exclaim over lunch (causing several occupants at the table to jump). ‘There are some items Mrs Hughes and I need from the village. I had intended to ask Alfred but as he is currently engaged as Valet to Mr Gregson…’ Jimmy sourly noted that when it came to Alfred, suddenly Carson seemed to find being Valet to Gregson to be the highest honor. ‘…I think it appropriate that you should go instead.’

‘Of course, Mr Carson.’ Said Jimmy pleasantly, having briefly weighed up the pros and cons and decided that on balance, getting out of the afternoons work was more than worth the inconvenience.

His opinion on that matter rapidly changed as Thomas piped up from the other side of the table. ‘I have some things to pick up as well…if I could be spared for a few hours as well?’ He said to Mr Carson.

‘I believe so.’ Said Mr Carson with a nod, retrieving his list from the lectern under the bells behind him and pushing it down the table to Thomas.

Jimmy’s heart sank. Without the list, he had no chance of getting away with ‘accidentally’ heading into the village before Thomas was ready, and was thus compelled to a couple of hours-worth of, no doubt, excruciating attempts at conversation.

‘Shall we head off a bit after two?’ Said Thomas brightly to him.

‘Very good, Mr Barrow.’ Said Jimmy, with a very fixed smile, before turning back to his food.

As they began walking, Jimmy was at first pleasantly surprised by Thomas’s seeming willingness to walk in silence, save a few brief commentaries on the cold of the day or the state of the vegetation.

His optimism that perhaps the afternoon wouldn’t be as irritating as anticipated lingered on as they turned off the driveway and into the woods to cut through to the main road, the house vanishing out of sight behind them as they went.

His good mood was such that he didn’t feel the immediate urge to roll his eyes or groan internally when Thomas decided to strike up conversation as they reached roughly the half-way point; marked by a particularly large ancient tree next to an even more ancient tree-throw hollow.

‘So I’ve been thinking about Abigail…’ Said Thomas.

‘Who’s Abigail?’ Said Jimmy without thinking, his attention temporarily taken by the need to carefully watch his footing as the descended into the hollow.

‘You’re cousin…’ Said Thomas easily.

‘Right! Of course!’ Jimmy exclaimed, turning on the spot to throw his hands up with an enthusiastic laugh. ‘Don’t know where my mind is today…’

‘Oh wait…’ Said Thomas levelly, picking his way slowly through the exposed tree roots after him. ‘…sorry…your cousin’s  _child_.’

‘Yes…’ Said Jimmy, mentally kicking himself. He gave another, more shaky laugh. ‘…that’s what I thought you said. We…um…we call her Gigi as a nickname you see, so when I hear Abigail I don’t always think…’

‘Where were you last night?’ Thomas cut in, closing the distance between them with slow, small, steps.

‘I was…at the pub…’ Jimmy said. ‘…with my cousin.’ He added.

‘Which one?’ Said Thomas, pleasantly enough but with something of an edge to his expression.

‘Um…’ Jimmy bit his lip, trying to remember if he had ever actually told Thomas their names or whether he should just make another one up.

He didn’t get to finish puzzling out that particular issue, instead he found himself reeling backwards from a slap so hard that his vision momentarily blurred in his left eye. He staggered back, tripping and falling back over an errant root.

‘Thomas, what the hell?’ He demanded angrily once the initial shock had subsided.

‘Get up.’ Thomas said, the inside of his head nothing but static noise as his anger surged.

Having already intended to, Jimmy complied without thinking.

‘What is this?’ Said Thomas, indicating between the two of them with a flick of his wrist.

‘After that I don’t bloody know!’ Retorted Jimmy, clutching his cheek. ‘What was that for?’

‘What is this?’ Thomas said again, ignoring him.

‘Well I…I thought we were friends.’ Said Jimmy, doing his best to look emotionally hurt as well as physically.

‘What is this?’ Thomas repeated darkly, stepping in closer.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Said Jimmy, standing his ground.

‘Shall I tell you what I think?’ Said Thomas, raising his hands to grip Jimmy’s collar. ‘I think it’s all about a little shit using me, lying to me, leading me on…’ Thomas spat as he spoke.

‘Right…’ Said Jimmy, realising the game was up, abandoning his pretense of hurt to contort his face into a sneer. ‘…and you’ve been loving every minute of it.’

He swiped Thomas’s hands away with his own and turned to walk away. ‘Pervert.’ He muttered.

Thomas saw red.

Jimmy cried out as Thomas reached out to yank him backwards by his collar, the buttons on his jacket straining but not bursting as he did so. They might as well have though, because before Jimmy could realise what he was doing, Thomas had them open.

‘What the…?’ Jimmy began to exclaim, but suddenly found the wind knocked out of him as he was pushed face first into the ground. He recovered just in time to catch Thomas tugging at his shoes and socks. ‘Thomas for God’s sake…!’ Jimmy shouted angrily, not knowing precisely how he intended to finish that sentence, but promptly distracted from doing so by Thomas’s hands cupping underneath him to wrestle his trousers open. ‘Hey! What are you…?’ Jimmy wriggled frantically to pull himself up and away from Thomas, but still found himself without trousers as he finally succeeded in rolling over onto his back.

While instinctively struggling, Jimmy was sufficiently taken off guard to enable Thomas to continue stripping him; the new position affording Thomas precisely the degree of access he needed to divest Jimmy of his waistcoat and shirt in addition to his jacket, his hat having already found it’s way to the earthen floor a few moments previous.

It was with an intense feeling of bewilderment that Jimmy found himself tugged to his feet and shoved further down into the hollow beneath the old tree trunk, wearing nothing but his underwear.

As Thomas quickly made his way down after him, Jimmy wasn’t sure if he was more unnerved by his own sudden lack of clothes or Thomas’s continued silence.

‘Thomas what do you think you’re doing?’ Jimmy demanded, pushing himself up off the mossy floor to sit up on his heels and glare at him, hands cupped in front of his groin to compensate for the thin fabric.

‘Well…’ Said Thomas merrily in a voice that was most definitely not his own, his eyes bordering on manic. ‘…seen as I’m not getting what I  _thought_ I was getting out of our…arrangement…I think I’m entitled to something else, don’t you?’

‘What…?’

Thomas grabbed a handful of Jimmy’s hair and pulled him up to his knees.

‘Thomas for God’s sake…!’ Jimmy shouted again as he reached both hands up to attempt to untangle Thomas’s hold.

‘You’ve got other things to think about that you’re hair right now.’ Said Thomas bitterly, barely managing to resist the urge to tear a clump of it out. ‘Hard as that may be for you to comprehend.’

Jimmy didn’t lower his hands, but he did watch in alarm as Thomas flicked open the buttons on his own trouser fastening; that he was suddenly painfully aware was a mere few inches from his face.

‘Wait…you can’t just…’ He began, immediately silenced as Thomas pulled himself out through the opening in his underwear, reaching to angle himself downwards; making it absolutely clear that he could.

‘I need to talk to you!’ Jimmy exclaimed desperately, trying to look anywhere but the appendage making progress dangerously close to his lips. ‘There’s things we need to talk about…Let me explain…’

‘Not interested.’ Said Thomas. ‘Not interested in a single damn thing you have to say. Now open your mouth.’

Jimmy shook his head dejectedly lips pressed tightly shut.

Thomas twisted his wrist, almost making good on his earlier urge to rip out his hair, drawing a loud howl from Jimmy.

Before he could fully close his mouth, Thomas pressed his erection to his lips.

Jimmy immediately clamped them closed again.

But finding himself unable to do anything against the highly unwelcome imposition running over his lips, save screw his eyes shut and try not to inhale too much of it’s scent through his nose (an awkward task given the need to keep his lips sealed), he eventually acquiesced; instantly finding his mouth full, throat probed and jaw stretched open to the limit in a failed attempt to limit the skin-on-skin contact.

He choked and he sputtered, and cried out around the stifling intrusion; having no experience whatsoever to call upon to lessen the discomfort.

More gratified by Jimmy’s distress than the act itself, Thomas pushed on regardless for a few moments.

 He pulled out with a dissatisfied grunt as the sickening gurgles and contractions at the back of Jimmy’s throat reached an intolerable level. Pushed sideways by his hair, Jimmy came to rest down against the hummocks of the tree roots, dry retching miserably but (thanks to missing breakfast and eating barely a thing at lunch) unable to produce anything to combat the pervasive and alien musky taste.

Thomas watched him, shaking his head.

He tutted softly as Jimmy rested against the moss carpet, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jimmy looked back towards him, making the mistake of allowing a hint of defiant anger to cross his expression. Thomas’s dangerous mood bled darker still.

‘Well that won’t do for anything will it?’ He said gently, giving a brief chuckle. ‘Do you want to try again?’

Jimmy’s brief bravado instantly vanished as he vigorously shook his head, his gaze coming to rest miserably on the earth squeezed between his fingertips as he waited for Thomas’s response.

‘Alright.’ Said Thomas easily, giving a comical quirk to his eyebrows purely for his own benefit.

Jimmy continued to wait, fingernails digging into the damp ground as the wetness began to seep through the side of his long-johns and into the skin of his hip, knowing rather than fearing that there was ‘more’.

‘Clearly you’re as useless at this as you are at friendship.’ Thomas said coldly. Jimmy winced. ‘Tell me, is there anything you’re good for?’

Jimmy didn’t reply, he told himself it was because he didn’t wish to dignify Thomas’s baiting with an answer, in reality he found himself unable to conjure an answer; an involuntary twitch at his jaw and quiver at his lip preventing him from even holding his head up as he remained silent.

Thomas gave a disdainful sniff.

‘Take them off.’ He said, indicating towards Jimmy’s underpants with a sweep of his eyes as Jimmy looked up in alarm from the floor.

‘You heard me.’ Thomas said simply in response to Jimmy’s incredulous expression.

‘Thomas, for God’s sake…’ Jimmy said, still unable to finish that particular sentence and uttering it with significantly less conviction than before; his posture amid the twisted roots on the damp ground a hairs-breadth from cowering.

‘Either you take them off…’ Said Thomas, retiring a few steps to shrug out of his cumbersome winter coat (the festering anger fueling the moment providing more than sufficient cloak against the chilled air) his trousers still open. ‘…or I tear them off you. Your choice.’

‘Why?’ Jimmy demanded, a self-preservation instinct, which unfortunately didn’t stretch to the indignity of running away in just his underwear, urged Jimmy to keep stalling, keep talking.

Thomas closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head again in bitter amusement.

‘You know why.’ He said, internally caught somewhere between crying and laughing at the magnitude of change in his opinion of Jimmy from the first time he had uttered the phrase to the context of the present moment; but unable to resist reveling in the stinging symmetry, and incrementally increasing Jimmy’s misery by forcing him to recognise the same.

The malice in the three words was total, brutal, and the immediate crumpling of Jimmy’s face that resulted would have broken any man who had managed to maintain even the slightest vestiges of self-control within his anger.

 Thomas was not that man; there was no punishment too great nor cruelty too harsh for betrayal and humiliation. Especially when perpetrated by one of the less than half a dozen people throughout his life he had genuinely called friend.

‘I don’t know…’ Said Jimmy in a strained voice. ‘I really don’t….please…’ He said, on one level knowing precisely, but on another more poignant level genuinely ignorant, trying desperately to appeal for a sense of sympathy for innocence as a last-ditch attempt to turn Thomas off his course; despairing of any chance to actually do so, his bag of tricks now pitifully empty. 

Thomas responded with silence, staring down at him unflinchingly, unaffected.

Hope sufficiently abandoned Jimmy to compel him to comply, tugging off first his top and then (far more slowly and reluctantly) his bottoms, although enough pride remained to ensure he suffered potent embarrassment and discomfort while doing so.

His feelings in that moment made him suddenly painfully aware of the extent to which he had, to all intents and purposes, been playing a game; the feeling of somehow losing his cards, or prematurely showing his hand, as he sat naked in front of Thomas sickened him utterly; despite the secure knowledge that he would never have taken things so far if left to his own devices.

‘Stand up.’ Said Thomas.

Jimmy complied, forcing himself to keep his hands clasped at his belly rather than further south as he pleaded. ‘Is this enough?’ He tried not to quake as Thomas’s eyes swept searchingly over him. ‘Please…I’ve done what you wanted.’ He lowered his hands awkwardly to his sides, brushing at the bits of plant that had imprinted themselves into the backs of his thighs in an effort to distract himself from the wretchedness of the gesture. ‘Can we please stop now?’ He whispered.

Jimmy flinched away as Thomas suddenly lurched forwards, stalking towards him at a dramatic speed.

‘Thomas…wait…’ Jimmy said, the last word stretching out into a scream as Thomas once again took ahold of him by the hair.

‘Move.’ Thomas ordered, yanking painfully at his hair with one hand while firmly pushing at his shoulder with the other, leading him to walk up the side of the hollow and towards the more level ground the other side of the tree trunk.

‘Wait…please…’ Jimmy said, stumbling ahead of Thomas, his bare feet seemingly finding everything sharp and rank lurking on the forest floor.

Thomas didn’t respond, the tension in his grip unrelenting.

‘I’ll tell Mr Carson…’Jimmy wailed, his voice completely breaking as he tried and failed utterly to project an air of confidence and resolve, his throat beginning to emit highly unfitting sounds for a grown man as his eyes started streaming.

‘Oh tell everyone.’ Thomas breathed as he pushed Jimmy against the trunk of the tree. ‘Do it please.’ He kicked at the side of Jimmy’s inner ankle, forcing his legs a few inches wider, and causing the twigs embedded in Jimmy’s soles to dig in further at the redistribution of weight. ‘Because I would love to see your face…’ Thomas leaned in, the buttons and cloth of his fabric scratching into Jimmy’s back as he brought his head forwards to rest on Jimmy’s shoulder. ‘…when you realise that none of them believe you.’

‘They will!’ Jimmy exclaimed desperately, screwing up his eyes against the loathsome feel of Thomas’s chin against his collar bone.

‘No they won’t.’ Thomas said, undeterred. ‘You know why?’

Jimmy miserably shook his head.

‘Because you’re nothing but a selfish liar…’ Thomas brought his lips up to the shell of Jimmy’s ear to whisper. ‘…and they all  _hate_  you.’

Jimmy gave a cry that was more of a whimper than a wail as he pressed his forehead against the rough bark of the tree.

He inhaled sharply as Thomas gave another kick to the side of his ankle, nudging his legs still further apart, sending a particularly sharp twig a good half and inch into the sole of his foot.

‘Thomas, my feet, can I just…?’ He broke off, gasping, unaware that Thomas’s hand had moved from his shoulder to his rear until Thomas’s forefinger and index finger drove inside of him; taking advantage of his brief moment of surprise to push through the previously tense ring of muscle, leaving Jimmy accommodating far too much, too soon.

‘No.’ Jimmy howled, drawing the tiny word out into at least three syllables, now only dimly aware of the increasing damage to his feet as the sting of stretching around Thomas’s fingers mingled with the strange and alien sensation of the cold forest air ghosting over his sensitive flesh, held open to the elements for the first time, had him bawling like the most distressed of children. ‘Stop it…Please…’

He gurgled and moaned in pain as Thomas’s fingers twisted, scissored and tugged, with no other agenda than undoing the tightness and resistance as speedily as possible, continuously pleading with him to stop in between moments of speechlessness cause by particularly brutal wrenches.

Thomas lowered the hand at his hair to grip the back of Jimmy’s neck, pressing him forwards into the bark. Jimmy was compelled to push against the trunk with all his might, palms flat to the wood in front of his shoulders, to prevent the skin of his face from grazing off on it as Thomas’s vicious and increasingly frantic ministrations had his body jerking first one way then the other.

His pulse thundering in his throat, breaths ragged and hot, Thomas’s became progressively more frustrated at the failure of his efforts to open Jimmy up; in the heat of his anger forgetting that sharp and hasty movements generally led to the direct opposite of the desired effect.

After a few more moments of frustration, he gave an irritated growl and withdrew his fingers, meaning to spit on them then return them to the task in hand. 

But primal instinct and rage rapidly superseded the original plan.

Reaching into his open trousers Thomas pushed his underwear down to release himself fully, surprised to find his erection in need of a few firm strokes to revive it, before pulling Jimmy’s hips back to force him to bend over a little, braced against the tree.

Grasping at Jimmy’s hip with one hand, he brought the other down to his entrance, pulling on the flesh beside it, stretching it, to enable him to more easily locate the correct spot with the head of his penis as he pushed forwards.

Whatever Jimmy may have said at that moment, Thomas would never know, as his attentions became entirely preoccupied by the infuriating feeling of Jimmy’s skin bowing and bending under the pressure of his thrust, but refusing to actually ‘give’ and allow him entry; hurting himself as much as Jimmy as the tightness and tugging threatened his foreskin with tearing.

Through brute force and lucky timing, Thomas managed to finally break through the barrier, giving a triumphant shout as he did so.

He paused for a moment, the euphoria of gaining entry draining away the worst of the tension and rage from his mind, kneading the flesh at Jimmy’s hip as he breathed deeply of the forest air.

Jimmy sobbed wetly, his head hidden in his forearms against the tree.

Thomas glanced down at him, first smirking, then suddenly concerned.

He experienced a brief moment of panic as he struggled to recall precisely what point he was trying to make; his panic deepening further as he wracked his brains for any circumstances under which his current actions would be justifiable.

But a dark internal voice assured him that he did have a point, even if he couldn’t quite recall it at present, and as his body rapidly directed his thoughts back down to the quivering flesh he was buried within he began to move.

He soon found that momentum was key to obtaining satisfactory levels of penetration, there being nothing to slick the way for him, and responded to that realisation with relish; suddenly very keen to conclude the encounter as speedily as possible.

There was no finesse to speak of, that would have taken time. There was no pleasure in it either. Jimmy’s body had none of its usual warmth or inviting scent, and his usually tan skin had drained to a pallid white, and he gave no response whatsoever to the repeated thrusts; not even as their frequency increased as Thomas tried desperately to distract his mind from contemplating the question of what motivations had brought him to this point.

Jimmy pressed his head tightly against his arms, bearing it as best he could. A merciful numbness had descended following the initial twist of gut-wrenching pain, but he could not escape the repeated back and forth jerks that rocked his body as Thomas inelegantly drove in and out of him.

The motion disgusted him.

It disgusted Thomas too.

Sheer force of will enabled Thomas to climax, though at the last moment he hesitated; wondering if he was entirely ready to conclude the encounter and deal with what was to follow.

He extracted himself a little too quickly, but Jimmy was beyond caring to react, merely remaining in the position where Thomas had left him as Thomas stepped back and began to put himself to rights with trembling hands. He did his best to keep his eyes off the smears of red at the tops of Jimmy’s thighs.

‘You’re…um…’ Thomas stuttered, fingers fumbling over his trouser buttons. ‘…Pathetic. You know that don’t you?’ He said, his voice growing stronger even as his face remained stubbornly unconvinced. ‘You’re selfish as a friend, you’re lazy as a colleague, you’re…’ Thomas’s eyes started to water. ‘…you’re body isn’t nearly as good to have as it is to look at…you’re useless, pointless…and I hope…’ No matter how hard Thomas tried he couldn’t bring himself to add ‘…you’ve learned your lesson.’

Not when he himself couldn’t remember what lesson he had been trying to teach.

‘Here.’ Thomas said briskly, walking forwards to hold out a small bundle of handkerchiefs to Jimmy.

Jimmy turned his head, his face blotchy and wet, regarding the handkerchiefs dully before weakly stretching out a hand to take them, otherwise remaining in his hunched over position.

‘I didn’t mean them for your eyes.’ Said Thomas with a grimace as Jimmy went to raise the handkerchiefs to his face.

Jimmy closed his eyes, dropping his head down dejectedly.

‘Well you…’ Thomas sniffed and bounded down the slope to the clothes strewn about the roots in the hollow below. ‘…you wouldn’t want to stain these now, would you?’ He said without conviction, tossing Jimmy’s long-johns up towards him.

Jimmy stayed where he was.

Thomas glanced around, rapidly coming to the conclusion that his nerves wouldn’t stand up to the task of gathering up the rest of Jimmy’s clothes.

With a toss of his head he turned on his heel. ‘I’ll see you in the village later…’ He called. ‘…or back at Downton…whichever.’

He quickly bent down to retrieve his coat and strode off purposefully into the trees without turning back. 


End file.
